


Memoirs from the Lives of the Cast

by Survivor_at_Midnight



Series: Dance is Art in Motion [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Beka doesn't care, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Introspection, Juilliard, Like diabetes-inducing fluff, M/M, New York City, OC's - Freeform, Tik Tok made me do it, Yes they're both legal hop off, Yuri is a Tease, going to school, will update tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23927317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Survivor_at_Midnight/pseuds/Survivor_at_Midnight
Summary: Cast /ˈkast/noun: the group of actors who make up a film or stage play.A collection of oneshots, short stories, anthologies, snippets, and glimpses from thePlaylists of an Executantuniverse.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Dance is Art in Motion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624876
Comments: 24
Kudos: 31





	1. Introduction

Hello everyone! I hope you've all be safe and well since we were last together.

So I had this little idea, and have been toying around with it for a while. I've gotten a lot of people asking if I was going to continue my story _[Playlists of an Executant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122462/chapters/50263997)_ , and I really want to. At the same time, I consider that particular plot finished. So I want to start a sort of oneshot collection of little moments and such of our favorite cast in my _Playlists_ universe. I already have a few that I'm working on and will post when I feel they're ready. And I want to pick your brains to help me write more. So drop a comment on this chapter for an idea or plot bunny you'd like to see written. Even if you want a spin-off of an already-posted chapter, comment here so I can keep track of what's been requested. 

So here are the 'rules':

  * **Include the character(s) and/or pairing(s) you want to see in a particular setting.** It doesn't have to be limited to Otabek/Yuri, you can ask for a chapter on Otabek in school, or about Lilia and Svetlana with a baby Yuri. Maybe you'd like to see what Yakov has been up to, or some more of Amina and Inzhu. If you want to ask about another _Yuri!! On Ice_ character that I haven't included before, or even one you've made up, feel free to ask for something with them as well. I'm up for anything!  
  

  * **Include a situation or event.** It doesn't have to be super detailed, it could be a plot bunny or a whole scenario you'd like to see the characters deal with in the _Playlists_ universe. You can even just give me a song and say 'write something to this'. And anything is game - including light smut to full on sex scenes (which is why I already set the rating to Explicit), light angst to full-on depression, anything. I will nicely ask we stay away from heavy angst though, I like my boys to be happy.   
  

  * **Include a time.** It can be pre- _Playlists_ , like Otabek first moving to New York, or Yuuri and Viktor first meeting, or Svetlana's first day with the Ballet. Or during _Playlists_ , maybe a club outing or during the visit to Almaty, maybe even a random school day for Yuri. Or even post- _Playlists_ , like Beka's mother's recovery or Otabek and Yuri working around their new school schedules.   
  

  * **Optional - Include a song or music to set the theme.** You remember how I loved to put music to my chapters in _Playlists_. Feel free to do that here too! Conversely, if you don't want music, just let me know.   
  

  * **Optional - Include a length.** 10 words, 100 words, 1,000 words. Set a minimum or a maximum if you want. I'll do my best to meet them.



Other than that, go wild! This is as much for you guys as it is for me, and I want us all to have fun with it. If you see someone has already commented with something you're interested in, go ahead and signal boost it by replying to them. Any artists out there who get inspired by anything in this series and want to share can totally send them over. I'll even make space just for fanart, moodboards, anything. I'll leave this work marked as 'completed' since technically it can stop at any time. 

Oh, last thing, I promise. If you don't want to leave it as a comment attached to your profile for whatever reason, feel free to comment anonymously, submit a [post to my Tumblr](https://sonder-and-kenopsia.tumblr.com/submit), or [email](mailto:super_star4life@yahoo.com) me. I'll be checking them all!

Much love, Survivor


	2. Morning, Toshio Masuda from the Naruto OST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet thoughts one lovely morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: OtaYuri cuddles. Lots of cuddles.

Otabek supposes he should be used to waking up before Yuri by now, after all the nights he’s spent over at his loft already, but waking up besides his still-sleeping boyfriend will never not awe him. 

It’s early June, and the sun makes an appearance around five-thirty now. It’s still way too early for either of them to be up, since they’re both taking a small two-week break for Yuri to fully move into his home. And since they deserve it, they sleep in more often than not and decide that they’ll deal with readjusting their sleep schedules later. For now, though, they indulge in late nights full of binge watching shows and lots of kissing and long, lazy goldenrod mornings.

The early sunlight from his window spills from behind him and into the loft, slanting over Yuri’s flax-gold hair and across the scattered moving boxes in his living room. Said blonde is still curled up in his oversized shirt and sleeping soundly. He’s laying in the curve of Otabek’s arm, his head nestled in the hollow of his bare shoulder, one hand lazily draped over the older man’s chest. The soft puffs of air escaping past Yuri’s lips vaguely tickle at his collarbone. Otabek pulls back an errant strand of hair from his cheek, tucking it behind a small ear. The sheen of it is nearly blinding, but he can’t look away. He trails the back of his fingers across the pale expanse of Yuri’s cheek, soft and gentle, again and again and again. 

It’s quiet. It’s perfect.

Eventually, long lashes flutter against his skin, and Yuri blinks at the light hitting his face before looking up at Otabek. Otabek, who still watches because he’s powerless not to, who still runs his fingers over the smaller man’s cheek indulgently. Otabek, who is more in love with this man than he thought possible.

Yuri seems reluctant to break their quiet morning as well, Otabek notes. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Doesn’t take his eyes off of his boyfriend. They’re tourmaline green, the faintest hints of cyan blue threading through to the edges, a gem within a gem. Otabek’s fingers change directions and glide over his neck and down to his shoulder to draw random shapes by connecting the faint freckles spattered across Yuri’s pale skin. He’s almost reverent in his exploration, but Yuri doesn’t seem to care, so he continues. 

Quite the opposite, really, Yuri shifts to nuzzle back into his chest, and Otabek pauses just long enough to let him. He doesn’t go back to sleep though he closes his eyes, the hand resting on his chest twitching to life and mirroring the random patterns across Otabek’s sternum. The Kazakh marvels at the contrast between them, his light tan to Yuri’s pale porcelain, his bigger and broader build to Yuri’s sylph-like frame. And yet they fit together easily, as though one were tailored to fit the other. He holds Yuri easily in his arms, Yuri fills his awkward silences. He keeps the younger calm, the younger gives him life. 

They let the sun’s rays shift across the floorboards, jump across the sheets, flicker over their skin, and they stay wrapped around each other as the hours drift by. Otabek is struck with the thought that he wants this, this contentment and peace, for the rest of his life. He wants to keep waking up next to Yuri for years and years to come. He wants more time to hold him close and just breath around the chaos of the rest of their lives. His mind drifts back to the waiting boxes strewn across the floor. He wants more. 

More, like more visits to Almaty. More time with all of his favorite people under one roof. More, like seeing Nikolai again. More, like long vacations for just the two of them, where they don’t have to answer to anyone for days on end. More touches on soft skin and more soft gasps for breath and more of Yuri on his lips. More strands of gold between his fingers and soft puffs of air across his chest. More, more, more, Otabek craves more.

Yuri splays his hand flat over Otabek’s heart. He wonders if the blonde can feel how much he loves him through his skin.

One day.

For now, this morning is perfect.

* * *

Yuri is coaxed out of sleep with gentle caresses over his jaw. 

Now that he’s more conscious to be aware of it, the light filtering in between the Manhattan skyrises is bright and makes him blink a little too much. But it warms his skin and gives Otabek an almost unearthly glow, so he doesn’t complain. Casting his eyes up, he meets his boyfriend’s gaze and just stares. 

He can somewhat understand Otabek’s penchant to just stare sometimes. They’ll be in the middle of something, practice or grocery shopping or some other banal thing, and he’ll just stop and stare at Yuri. Sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for hours on end. Sometimes he’ll start touching Yuri, and if it were anyone else, he’d just as quickly tell them off. But he gets it, because sometimes he wants to do that too. Like now. Because he doesn’t know how he got so lucky, or what he did in his previous life to deserve this. 

This comfort and affection that his boyfriend has endless reserves of for him. Yuri’s beyond grateful that he’s found it. That Otabek loves him. That he loves Otabek. That they get to be together. So he gets it, and lets Otabek look and touch as much as he wants to. He secretly wants him to, despite what he might say or do. He wants more of that affection, and he’ll take as much as he can get.

Otabek hasn’t taken his eyes off of his face, even though his hands have dropped a bit lower, to his shoulder, where the neck of his huge shirt has slipped while he slept. Yuri stares back. Otabek’s undercut is as perfectly messy as ever despite definitely not seeing a comb yet, and his eyes are half-lidded as he looks down at him. His jaw is cast in sharp relief from the angle of the light. The same light turns his light tan to a golden bronze and highlights every muscle packed underneath. The faintest smile is stretched across his lips. He’s so damn handsome it almost hurts.

The light from the window finally gets to him and he shifts and starts to draw invisible patterns on Otabek’s chest. He’s already imprinted the older man’s face in his mind, anyway. If the moment were even a little more different, he might have been persuaded to venture lower. But that’s not what he wants right now, they can leave that for some other time. Instead, his mind wanders through his memories.

Such a random turn of events, Yuri thinks, that led them to where they are now, warm and happy and in each other’s arms. It was a complete whim that made him take out his headphones, that made him stop and watch that first time. An accident that they had ran into each other in that plaza. So many moments where one choice might have changed the outcome. But something kept pushing them together until they got with the program. Whatever it was, it was right, because Yuri doesn’t want to be anywhere else but here right now. 

What a stroke of luck that he had stopped that day, down in the subway. If he hadn’t he never would have met Otabek. He never would have gotten this contentment. Hell, a lot of things would change. He’d still be an angry little shit and probably still be running his body into the ground alone. He wouldn’t have his group of friends now. He wouldn’t have Otabek now.

A spike of fear skims his heart. Yuri flattens his hand on Otabek’s chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his pulse under his fingertips. He’s here, they’re here, and that isn’t going to change any time soon. He won’t let it, Otabek won’t let it. The steady drum of his boyfriend’s heart under his palm, the lax arm curling behind him to rest on his hip, the gentle fingers still playing on his shoulder, the subtle warmth of his skin, they all calm him down again and bring him back to Otabek. 

Even if it was a bunch of random events, Yuri is grateful that they happened the way they did. Because he never wants to lose this. 

He never wants to lose this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow you guys are fast! A few hours after posting the Intro and I already had requests. I'm soooo happy you guy are excited for this! 
> 
> This is shorter than my normal chapters, mostly because I wanted it to fit within this [piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2U3NCx_qN8). I think I may have overshot the time by a bit, but that's okay. It spewed out of my head almost immediately and I feel like it's good as is. Love!


	3. Jump to the Rhythm, Jordin Pruitt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go to school!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  _You make made feel so special inside_   
>  _Like there was nothing that I couldn't try_   
>  _I'll always feel like a winner, it's true_   
>  _With you_   
>  _You make me wanna_   
>  _Jump to the rhythm and step to the music_   
>  _All in together, let's show how we do it_   
>  _Step to the rhythm and dance to the music_   
>  _All in together we shine_   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> Request: Day before or of when Otabek starts his studies.

“Yura, breakfast!” Otabek calls over his shoulder. He doesn’t know if Yuri heard him or not, though, because he’s taken to warming up with his cat-ear headphones on in the morning. And that normally results in Otabek physically pulling him away from the practice area so he can have breakfast. He plates their food, a fruit salad with a side of granola and yogurt for Yuri and oatmeal and toast for him, and sets them on the table before catching a glimpse of the blonde coming out of that stretch where his leg is straight in the air. A standing split, if he remembers correctly. He watches as the leg in the air drops, little by little, until Yuri’s able to stand straight on his yoga mat again. Just like he thought, Yuri has his headphones on and didn’t hear a thing he said. 

It doesn’t matter that much, because he sees Otabek staring as he turns around. Yuri jumps just a little, his head tilting a few degrees so that his bangs fall away from his right eye. He pauses his music and pads over, pulling off his headphones in the process. “What?”

Otabek merely shakes his head with a smile and kisses the blonde’s head. He smells like citrus and mint and clean sweat and Yuri. “Nothing. Just realizing that I will never be able to do that. Breakfast is ready.”

Yuri scoffs at him and breezes past. “You could, if you actually stretched. Well, maybe not as good as me, but close.” He throws a grin back at him and pops a strawberry in his mouth as he scrolls down his social media. Otabek joins him at the table and eats. 

They’ve perfected this routine over the summer. Yuri would get the bathroom first to shower and then stretch in the open area they’ve cleared by moving the couches and coffee table around. He needs the time to get a good warm up in. Then Otabek will get his shower and start breakfast, partially because he tends to sleep a bit later because of his club gigs and partially because Yuri will keep on stretching until the last minute if left alone. Then they would eat, and Otabek would drive Yuri to his summer dance camp and then head to his radio job. After, he would go and busk with Rita, Aman, and JJ or to whichever club had booked him for the night. If Yuri didn’t show up wherever he was, he would head straight home to find his boyfriend already there and probably dancing whatever he learned that day. They still scheduled everything out, and reserved the evenings and weekends for themselves. It was perfect.

Now, Otabek wonders how their routines will shift with the start of the school year. He’s grateful that at least their morning pattern was the same. He obviously had to work something out with the radio station and his bandmates, but they were understanding enough. The station put him on the request-only list until further notice, so he wouldn’t have to go in unless they needed him for something specific. And his band mates were more than happy to work around his new schedule once it settled down. He has his scholarship to Juiliard’s music production program, now he just has to pass the classes.

Yuri will have less adjusting to do. He is technically still a freshman by age, but Yakov had made sure he took some general education classes over the past two years, so he will walk in today with sophomore status. But now, he has a major in dance and a minor in choreography and prerequisite classes to juggle around. So maybe not so different after all.

They finish their breakfasts and set the dishes to soak while they’re out and get ready to leave. Otabek, in an uncharacteristic fit of nervousness the night before, had already packed his bags and left them by the door to his loft. Bags, the plural, because one is full of notebooks and papers and textbooks and the like, and the other has his basic busking equipment. He doesn’t have a clue if he can make a showing with his band mates this afternoon, but he might as well try. Yuri, on the other hand, has his dance clothes already on, and is just pulling on his sweats over them to keep warm. His duffle just has his street clothes and ballet flats hurriedly tossed in on top of his binder of looseleaf paper. 

“You have your key?” Otabek asks as they head out the door and to the garage. Yuri grunts and flashes them quickly in reply before burying them in the duffle, too. The duffle and his two bags are placed in the cargo hold on the bike, and as soon as he’s seated and has his helmet on he feels Yuri’s hands snake around his waist and grip tight. A grin slides across Otabek’s lips as they pull out of the garage and into the late August light. 

Juilliard is swamped when they get there, naturally, and Otabek can feel Yuri’s agitation at the school parking garage hold-up. Finally, they reach the front of the line and Otabek takes the parking pass that the security guard hands him before circling the lot to find his spot. One motorcycle taking up an entire car-sized parking spot is just a tad bit comical, but they’re entitled to it, so what the hell. Yuri pulls off his helmet and starts to drag back the fly-aways that slipped loose during the ride. Otabek bats his hand away and quickly braids his hair down and is rewarded with a delicious kiss for his thoughtfulness. 

“So where is your first class?” Yuri nudges him as they walk back up to street level. He’s relaxed and almost uncaring about his surroundings as they weave their way through dozens of students with cases and bags and portfolios. It occurs to Otabek that Yuri probably did something like this on his first day, before they met. He wonders if Yuri had felt as uneasy as he does now. 

He fishes out his phone, where he’s already imported his class schedule, and takes a look. “Something called Media Theory in 528 at nine. Then a literature gen ed right after in 212 until around twelve thirty.”

Yuri frowns, leaning over to try and get a better look at Otabek’s phone. “Which literature gen ed and with who?” 

“Uh, Lit 108, Classical Poetry with a Sikowitz?” What’s Yuri getting at?

Said blonde cringes and _tsk_ s. “That dude is either insane or constantly on drugs. Even Georgi couldn’t handle him for long, and that ass was melodrama personified. Switch to a class with Paccione. I had him, he’s chill.”

Otabek nods and makes a note to do that during lunch, after his first class with this Sikowitz. He wants to at least see how his professors are before he starts scrambling his schedule. “What about you?”

Yuri shrugs and deftly sidesteps some kid’s trumpet case falling open. “I’ll be with Lilia in the mornings, same as last year, seven-thirty to like ten. You can sit in, if you want. She likes you.”

Otabek can’t imagine Lilia Baranovskaya liking him that much, but he’ll take Yuri’s word for it. He seems to be the only human on the planet who can actually talk to her and understand her, which is the weirdest shit he’s seen in a while. But he has nothing to do between seven-thirty and nine, so he might as well take his boyfriend up on that offer.

“And after that,” Yuri continues, “I’m with Katsudon in the third-floor theater to boss his kids around. I’ll find you for lunch.” He punches the elevator button for the second floor - Otabek hadn’t even noticed that they had stepped into one - and all but drags the older man to the studio. He remembers from the few other times he was here to leave his shoes outside and slides his own sneakers off before following Yuri in, who has already disappeared into the locker room to dump his stuff.

Otabek takes up residence in a corner of the empty dance room and watches Yuri fiddle around with the iPod dock. The younger man is so comfortable here, like this studio is his second home, and commands the space like he’s the one in charge. Yuri goes back to his warmups again, even though he had done them not even two hours ago, and doesn’t take his phone off of the dock when the early birds start to filter in. The other students sneak glances at him, questioning his presence (he’s not dressed at all for a dance class, in jeans and his leather jacket) until Mila waltzes in and gives him a cheery hello. Then she’s off to bother Yuri, who may or may not be showing off and enjoying it. The rest of the students watch and mutter to themselves. Apparently they’ve heard of Yuri or Mila before, and are having mixed feelings about sharing space with them.

All the idle chatter in the room goes quiet when Lilia steps in. Even Yuri smartens up and heads to the _barre_ without a word. Her eyes flicker over her new class and barely rest on Otabek in the corner for more than a few seconds before handing him Yuri’s phone. He takes it and watches Lilia put her students through their paces. 

If Otabek thought he had a healthy respect for ballet as an art form before, he now stands corrected. It looks effortless on a stage with the right music and lighting and costume and makeup, like the dancer didn’t even need to try to move so freely. Of course, Otabek knew in the back of his mind that that isn’t the case, he saw firsthand how much it took for Yuri to master a piece, but to actually see some students struggle to reach the bar that Yuri and Mila set is another matter entirely. The warmups are grueling, and more than once some kid or another falls out of sync with the rest of the class. Lilia shows no mercy but is not unkind about it, quickly correcting them until they get it right. 

The time eventually comes for Otabek to make his way to his classroom, and he makes sure to catch Yuri’s eye as he puts the blonde’s phone on the table next to the iPod dock. Said blonde gives him a small nod before refocusing on the sequence Lilia is teaching, and Otabek slips out of the dance room. He has fifteen minutes to find room 528. 

Tracing his way back to the elevator isn’t hard, but finding the room on the fifth floor eats up a good portion of his time. He has just five minutes until class officially begins when he sits down and starts to pull out his books in the midst of the other twenty or so students. Media Theory and Literacy is supposed to be the first step to creating consumer content to reach some kind of objective, or at least the course description sells it as that. Otabek thinks he understands it a bit, since he does that live all the time, but there’s always something new to learn. He’s thumbing through the textbook when someone slides into the other side of his table, out of breath and seconds ahead of the professor, one Norman Prusslin.

Otabek sneaks a glance at his classmate besides him as Prusslin starts handing out copies of the syllabus. The other man pushes his feathered brown hair out of his eyes before reaching for his syllabus and catches Otabek staring. An easy smile appears, and he offers his hand. “Hey. Leo de la Inglesia. Nice to meet you.”

Otabek takes said hand. “Otabek Altin. Likewise.”

The first hour of class consists of Prusslin reviewing the syllabus and the overall timeline of the course. Aside from covering the entirety of the six-hundred page textbook in front of him, they’ll be doing a research paper on some form of media as a midterm and a term-long final project that will prove their competency of the basic theories they’ve learned. 

So two grades for the entire class. And attendance. A lot to ask from Otabek’s first class.

The last half hour is a brainstorm session for the students to start planning out their project. Otabek looks over the guidelines and can already feel an idea forming. A promotional video for something will meet the rubric minimums, now he just needs to figure out how to make one.

Leo nudges him. “A school promotional video will probably get an easy A on the project. Wanna make one together?” He slides his copy of the rubric over, and it’s already covered in blue ink, things underlined and little storyboard boxes doodled in the margins. 

Great minds must think alike. “Sure. I got the music if you can handle the videography.”

The other man’s eyes light up. “You make music? That’s great! I’m here for video production. I would love to hear you play sometime! Let me get your number,” he rambles as he fiddles with his phone.

Otabek is taken aback a bit from the enthusiastic reply. He’s not used to people going out of their way to hang around him, that’s why he only has a handful of friends who all happen to be the type who are outgoing. “Uh, sure.” He rattles off his cell number as he packs away his stuff. Leo isn’t bothered by his awkwardness and bustles right along.

“I’ll text you my number. If you’re free after, we can talk about planning this out. I have a journalism class next, but I’ll catch you later!” Leo gives him another sunny smile and disappears around a corner, leaving a slightly baffled Otabek behind. He thinks that if Leo were just a little less friendly he would be genuinely annoyed by his chattines, but it’s hard not to like him. And as promised, his phone buzzes in his pocket with Leo’s name and number. Otabek shakes his head and saves it as he finds his way to his literature class.

And immediately thinks that Yuri was right as he sits down close to the door. This Sikowitz is a few cards short of a deck. The hour he spends trapped in that classroom feels like a fever dream, and he knows _he_ didn’t take anything, but isn’t quite sure about the professor. Some of the other students find him funny and entertaining, but Otabek will never be able to take him seriously for an entire semester. So while Sikowitz is pantomiming Of Mice and Men as an icebreaker, Otabek pulls out his laptop and switches to a class taught by Paccione and feels very little remorse about it. After today, he has two classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and four on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Not ideal, since those days start at eight and end at three, but it can’t be helped.

Otabek is one of the first people out of that room and nearly runs into Yuri, who is loitering just outside the classroom door.

“Told you he was a whack job,” the blonde grins at him as he grabs the taller man’s shirt and drags him down to a cafe through the crowds of people.

“I will never doubt your judgement again,” Otabek replies solemnly. “I already switched out.” He lets Yuri buy lunch for them both and pulls out his Media Theory textbook. He might as well get a head start on this monster. He can hear Yuri’s mock sneer of disgust as he drops off their food.

“Oh no, you’re one of those _proactive students_ , aren’t you,” he groans as he flops down next to the Kazakh. Otabek merely nods and plucks a fry from his boyfriend’s tray. It’s hard to pretend to disregard Yuri’s pout. “Come on, Beka, don’t ignore me.” In response, he shoves a fry in Yuri’s mouth with a smirk.

Their lunch break is spent with Otabek trying and failing to read more than one sentence at a time and Yuri alternating between pestering his boyfriend and scrolling through his Instagram. It’s not so different from their normal lunch dates, and it re-equilibrates Otabek. He can handle another class. He ends up walking Yuri to his contemporary dance class on his way to music theory, leaving him with a quick kiss and a promise to come and find him later. 

Music theory is a two-and-a-half hour class, split between theory and practice. And the class also has a term-long composition project that, yes, can be used in other classes. Two birds, one stone. 

That’s where Otabek’s excitement ends, though, because it’s made abundantly clear that _theory_ and _practice_ are two different things. They start with the ‘basics’, or rhythm. Something that he is well familiar with, as a DJ. Rhythm is the backbone of any piece of music, without it there _is_ no music. He can create beats and drum patterns in over a dozen styles in a matter of minutes with his beatboard and laptop, easily. Writing those beats down on paper is a different matter, apparently. There are notations that he never even knew existed, and as the theory half of the class goes by, he realizes that the things he’s been writing for years are inefficient at best and just plain wrong at worst. Then the practice part of class comes, and he puts his head down and tries to figure out the exercises he’s been given. It’s not exactly _easy_ , he understands what he’s supposed to do, but using strictly the theory instead of tapping it out on his leg is hard. In the end, Otabek ends up mixing the two together until he figures out the exercises. 

If this first day is any indicator of how this class is going to go, then he’s going to actually have to put a lot of effort into this. The thought makes him scoff a bit. The musician needing to actively try in music theory. An odd turn of events, but that’s probably what happens when someone self-teaches.

After music theory, he hangs around outside of Yuri’s contemporary class for the last hour and tries to puzzle through his music homework. It gets a little easier the more he practices, so Otabek supposes that’s how he’ll manage - with a lot of paper-and-pencil practice. He tucks it away when Yuri’s purple leopard sneakers appear next to him. They’re both done for the day, thankfully.

Otabek smiles as Yuri grabs his hand and shoves their intertwined fingers in the pocket of his tiger hoodie. “Not bad for a first day. You up for meeting with the others?”

Yuri grins back at him. “Hell yes. I finally get to help you guys set up. _And_ I can stay as long as I want!” He’s far too chipper for having just stepped out of a dance class, but Otabek is happy that he had a good day. He pulls out his phone and texts Rita that they’ll be down in the Times Square subway at their normal spot by five. He gets an equally excited response from her and a promise to bring snacks to celebrate. He doesn’t bother stopping her, she’ll do whatever the hell she wants anyway.

Otabek pulls up Leo’s contact and considers for a moment. Should he?

Yuri, of course, is nosey. He leans over to see what Rita said and ends up seeing Leo’s contact open on the screen. “Aw, look at you, Beka, already making new friends!” he teases. Otabek rolls his eyes good-naturedly and shoves the smaller man just a bit.

“I don’t want to hear that from you, Plisetsky,” he teases back as he sends a simple _'You wanted to hear me play. Times Square and 42nd Street subway until 8pm.’_ “Besides, you’ll meet him later, if he shows. Leo is helping me with a project in Media Theory.”

Yuri wrinkles his nose. “A project already? Ew. Not even Lilia has started anything yet, she’s drilling us on our form. That Quincy kid from the show is here, and he keeps biting his lip when he does _anything_ and she keeps yelling at him for it. It’s hilarious.” 

His phone buzzes in his hand just before they enter the garage. _‘YES! I’ll see you there!’_ “Two actually. I’ll tell you more once we get over to Times Square.” He tosses Yuri his helmet as he stashes their bags away again. 

It’s a fifteen minute drive over to their subway station, and Otabek parks his bike a block or so away. They take their bags with them down into the station, and Amanet catches up with them maybe ten minutes later, toting his cello and the table that Otabek uses. 

“So how was school, my little freshies?” Aman quips as he and Otabek set up the table. Yuri kicks the German in the shin, muttering about ‘not being a damn freshman’. Otabek snatches the keys from Aman and leaves them to their bickering to start bringing down the speakers and wires. When he comes back down, JJ has miraculously shown up and is ruffling his boyfriend’s hair. He pushes the speakers to a stop and drops the wires on JJ’s head.

“Stop tormenting him and help me set up,” he says. Yuri rewards his rescue with a kiss, to which both Aman and JJ wolf whistle and Yuri flips them off without looking. Otabek just lets it happen, he knows none of them mean any harm anyway. He starts hooking up his laptop and turntables as he tells them about his first day back in school in over four years to entertain them. Rita pops out of nowhere and starts asking questions. It’s a more jovial setup than Otabek can remember happening in a while, and he likes it. At five, Yuri slips behind the table with him as he starts spinning a simple beat. 

He’s preoccupied with making a bridge on his laptop when he feels someone tap his shoulder. It’s not Yuri, he’s fixing some tape off behind the speakers, and the others are playing. He takes a second to ‘control-save’ what he’s working on and looks up to see Leo looking like someone set sparklers off behind his eyes. He’s speaking and gesturing wildly, so Otabek pulls off his headphones.

“-this is the coolest thing, like, ever! Dude, I thought you were going to like, play piano or something, not _this!_ ” He’s pointing a little crazily to his mixing setup, and Otabek just shrugs. He feels Yuri drape himself over his shoulder and eye Leo.

“Who’s this, Beka?” he asks as he pulls his cat headphones off. Otabek turns his head and kisses Yuri on the cheek to appease him.

“Yura, this is Leo, my classmate from Music theory. Leo, this is Yuri, my boyfriend.”

If Leo was starstruck before, he’s absolutely incandescent now. “ _You’re the one who won Sight and Sound!_ Oh my fucking god, if I had remembered earlier - wait, Otabek, that means _you mixed his combined piece!_ Dude that was _epic!_ ” Otabek watches his fanboying in amusement for a second before turning back to his mix board. He is still working, after all.

Yuri, though, is proudly showing off their practice footage that he keeps on his phone for moments like this. Leo is absolutely enamored. Looks like they both have a new friend now.

In no time, Leo has his own phone out and is recording snippets of their live playing. Rita and JJ thrive on the attention, and milk it for all that it’s worth. Yuri appears besides him again and leans to whisper in his ear. “He wants to start practicing his video skills on us with a Youtube page. I told him to chill until you guys finish at least.”

“Well I’m not going to be the one to tell him no. But thanks, Yura.” Otabek smiles and turns back to his music. All in all, not a bad first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So heads up, I don't actually go to Juilliard, have never been to Juilliard, and if you remember one of my end notes from _Playlists_ , I didn't actually study music production. I have taken those Media Literacy and Music Theory classes as gen eds, though, so at least that's legit. But hey, I can kinda do whatever I want in this series. This is purely indulgent at this point and I love it.
> 
> Also, LEO IS HERE! That JJ/Otabek/Leo trio of friendship can finally happen!
> 
> Coments and kudos make a happy creator! Much love!


	4. La Ballade, Maika Loubte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri doesn't back down from a challenge. Not even a stupid Tik Tok challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > _À toi, je voue ma vie, mais j'ne te l'ai pas dit_   
>  _Je rêve d'un serment par le sang, d'aimer autrement_   
>  _Et toute la fureur du monde ne pourrait rien contre nous_   
>  _À toi, je voue ma foi, viens, laisse les autres là_   
>  _Partons pour l'étoile inconnue, à perte de vue_   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> Prompt: Domestic OtaYuri; smut

_'Well, this is gonna be interesting,’_ Yuri muses to himself as he watches the video on his Instagram again. The part that he laughs at the most is where the boyfriend literally falls all over himself to chase his supposedly-naked girlfriend back to their bedroom. It’s a stupid challenge really, but the reactions of the significant others in the short videos are anywhere between mildly amusing to downright hilarious, sometimes even ending with a pretty obvious insinuation that the couple will be … indisposed for a while. Mila had sent him this video with the words _‘Dare you! ;)’_.

And Yuri is nothing if not willing to take on a challenge, stupid or no.

It’s perfect timing as well, since Otabek is engrossed in his music theory homework down at his workstation, headphones on and head bent over a textbook and his sheet music for the foreseeable rest of the evening. For someone so naturally talented with music he takes his classwork seriously, and Yuri decides to give him a little more time to focus before pulling his trick. So he rolls out of their bed and ambles over to the bathroom for a shower.

He figures it’s a special occasion and breaks out his rosewater-scented shower set, complete with a face mask and hair treatment mask. Yuri doesn’t get to use this often, since he’s normally working up a sweat in a studio somewhere, but for things like date nights he likes to go all out just because he can. It’s almost like a performance, and the only person he has to impress is Beka. So he takes his time cleaning every inch of his skin under the steaming shower, face covered in clay and hair wrapped up in a cap so the treatment can work.

It takes him a minute or so to gather up the nerve to reach back and work himself open. By now, he’s a bit more used to the sensation of the stretch, but he’s never done it to himself before, Otabek is normally the one who does it. Yuri calls up his memories of the times they ever got this far and tries to mimic what his boyfriend does to him. It’s awkward at first, the angle is different and he’s still a touch anxious, and that keeps him from the pleasure for a bit. But he takes his time, gently massaging and pressing lightly to get used to it, until the tip of his finger slips in and shocks a startled gasp out of him. He pushes a bit deeper, searching around until the slight burn fades in the wake of more pleasure, then nudges a second finger inside. 

Exploring himself for the first time leaves Yuri breathless and flushed down to his chest, his cock straining and leaking a bit. By the time he’s three fingers knuckle-deep and nudging at the small spot that makes him a bit stupid, the water is starting to run tepid. He quickly washes the remains of the clay and hair mask off and roughly towels off the majority of the water from his hair. The rest starts evaporating as he combs out the tangles, and he doesn’t even bother with completely drying off his body. The shower set has left a faint shimmer across his skin that the errant water droplets reflect.

Stepping out of the humid bathroom is awful, almost enough to steal away his arousal, and he mentally thanks whatever gods are listening that both he and Otabek like the loft warm. He plucks his phone off of it’s charger, and on a complete impulse decides to add to the challenge videos. His boyfriend is still completely distracted with counting note intervals or whatever, so he puts on one of his sultry playlists and starts to record, giving the camera a cheeky wink and a glimpse of his twinkling shoulders and chest before turning it on the back of the older man’s head. A snicker escapes as he throws his towel at the undercut, turning into a full giggle when Otabek startles and tries to wrestle his way out of the damp terry cloth, pulling his headphones off in the process.

“Yura, what the hell-” Otabek breaks off into a string of Kazakh grumbling, balling the towel up and making like he’s going to throw it back, but then he clues in to the music. And then his eyes catch up, blowing wide as his jaw drops, towel all but forgotten on the floor. Yuri leans on the side of the bookshelf, stretching his neck long and exaggerating every curve along his profile. The low lights in the loft catch some of the sparkles and reflect across the last bits of water on his skin.

“Problem?” he taunts with a sly flick of his tongue across his bottom lip. His boyfriend seems to have been struck dumb, and Yuri is drunk on the power and contol he has for these few seconds. Because he knows once Otabek regains even a smidge of control, he’s done, he’ll be helpless against the other man. Until then, he teases with sensual looks and a hand on his cock, because this _is_ incredibly amusing. His boyfriend seems to have lost his coordination as well, his first few steps away from his chair are jerky and uneven. But he’s coming around, his stride smoothing out as he closes in like a predator, and Yuri knows he’s lost.

He barely has the chance to stop the video before Otabek is devouring him. From one second to the next he’s dropped his phone somewhere on the shelves and has been crowded up against the bookcase with his boyfriend kissing him like the world is ending. Otabek’s hands are everywhere, gripping his arms then his waist then his neck, leaving a trail of fire across Yuri’s skin. He gasps for breath when he can because the other man is relentless, claiming his lips again and again between quick bites at his jaw and collarbone. He can barely keep up, slipping into that stunned disorientation that always somehow takes him when they’re close like this.

“God...damn, Yura,” he faintly hears as Otabek yanks him away from the bookcase, picking him up like he weighs nothing and dropping him on the bed. Yuri’s still kind of out of it, so he doesn’t do much more than lay sprawled out over the messy sheets as the older man rips off his shirt and climbs back over him to steal another kiss. In seconds they’re wrapped around each other again, desperation skyrocketing exponentially. Yuri arches under the Kazakh’s broad chest as open-mouthed kisses trickle across his body, Otabek lapping up the few remaining drops of water dotting his skin. He’s already a panting mess under the older man.

In a bid to feel more skin, Yuri tugs on the waistband of Otabek’s sweatpants, dragging them down until the other man absent-mindedly kicks them off, and Yuri catches a glimpse of his lover, stiff and huge as ever, before wet heat surrounds his cock and he yells out in pleasure. “Fuck, Beka!”

One thing Yuri was not expecting when they first started having sex was how _fucking good_ Otabek is at it. He’s fantastic at oral, hung like a stallion, and has stamina for _days_. For a while, Yuri was downright embarrassed at what he thought was a huge experience difference. That is, until Otabek had enough of his sulking and straightened things out. Now, he just counts his blessings, his boyfriend’s talented tongue being one of them. Yuri’s damn near seeing stars as his length is squeezed in the tight channel of Otabek’s throat then being caressed by velvet as the other man pulls back. A moan slips out as he feels fingers pressing against his loose hole. “Shit, no, Beka, please, I’m gonna-” the rest is choked off as two fingers and Beka’s goddamn tongue plunge in, his other hand squeezing his cock and staving off his orgasm.

Yuri can feel the groan that rumbles out of his boyfriend sending shockwaves up his spine. “Fuck, Yura, that’s so hot,” Otabek mumbles into the sensitive inside of his thigh. Said man yelps when Beka bites down on the tender muscle there before diving back to his rim, his fingers twisting and dragging deliciously against his heated skin. A third pushes in, and Yuri thinks he might yell himself hoarse before the night is over. Three of Otabek’s fingers is more than four of his own, and the twinge of the stretch is like oil on the fire his boyfriend leaves on his skin. His hands grab and pull at the longer fringe of his boyfriend’s undercut to little avail, since Beka won’t move unless he wants to. But _god_ , does he want to come.

“Fuck me, _please_ , Beka, come _on_ ,” Yuri begs, writhing under the hold the older man still has on him. The dark chuckle he gets back in response makes his face burn, but he’s not backing down. Otabek pulls his fingers out and reaches blindly for the lube they’ve taken to keeping in their nightstand drawer while Yuri drags him back up for another heated kiss. It’s a blind fumble full of panting breaths and grasping hands and tangled legs until he feels the pressure of a blunt head at his entrance, and all of his breath is stolen from his lungs. No matter how many times he’s taken his boyfriend inside, nothing will ever prepare him enough for being split open so completely. 

Otabek groans and drops his head into the crook of Yuri’s neck with a shudder as his hips come flush with Yuri’s thighs. Under him, Yuri is frozen and on the edge of falling into an orgasm, eyes wide. He feels Beka draw back agonizingly slowly, until just the head is inside, and then drive back in all at once, his teeth latching onto where his neck and shoulder meet. That’s it, he’s coming hard between them, every muscle taunt and shaking with the force of his orgasm.

Otabek takes advantage of his earth-shattering climax and fucks into him hard, sending Yuri over the edge again, or drawing out the first, Yuri doesn't know. His boyfriend is hot and hard and covering every inch of him, and his skin is so sensitive that every brush against it ricochets across his nerves. Yuri can't do much more than lie there and take it as his hands scramble over the broad planes of Otabek's back. Said man growls again and changes his angle just a bit, so now he's assaulting Yuri's prostate. 

"You're fucking insane, Yura," Otabek huffs as he swipes a hand through the cooling release on Yuri's stomach and chest. "Absolutely insane. And gorgeous." He grips Yuri's aching cock and works him back to hardness again, with his own come as lube, never messing up his rhythm, and it's so hot and filthy and erotic and almost _too much_. 

"B-Beka, fuck, I can't-" Yuri stutters. Otabek working his cock is just shy of painful, and the counterpoint of pleasure makes him want _more_. 

Otabek doesn't give him a break, though. "One more, baby," he promises and tightens his grip just a little more, drives in just a little bit faster. Yuri hovers on the edge for what feels like an eternity, his mind addled under his boyfriend's hand. Otabek is close too, a sweat has broken out over his skin and his thrusts come sharper. There's an almost feral glint in his eye when he arches down and bites his neck again, and Yuri shatters in his arms, his nails digging into golden skin and dragging as he comes again. He can vaguely feel Beka freezing over him, muscles spasming as he comes hard inside. And then Yuri drops, his world going white.

When he can sort-of see again, Yuri looks around for his boyfriend and can't quite stifle his unhappy sound when he doesn't see the other man. But then Otabek appears from the bathroom with a glass of water and helps him sip it, and one by one Yuri's senses come back online. Apparently he lost a few minutes, because they're both clean and he's wrapped up in the knitted Afghan he likes. Otabek has put back on his sweatpants and put Yuri in one of his huge shirts. When the dryness in his throat is gone, he pushes the half-full glass back towards his boyfriend, who downs it in seconds and puts the glass on the bookshelf. Yuri drags the taller man to lay next to him and nestled into the curve of his arm. "Good then?" he asks cheekily, to which Otabek rolls his eyes and pinches his side.

"Better than good, Yura. Though a warning would be nice. That homework is due soon." Otabek pulls Yuri a little closer and kisses the top of his head. 

Yuri scoffs. "Finish it tomorrow, it's not due till Wednesday. And a warning would defeat the purpose." Speaking of, Yuri halfheartedly reaches across Otabek's body for his phone, still sitting on the bookshelf, until Otabek gives in and hands it to him. Unlocking it, he nearly chokes when he realizes the video didn't actually stop when he dropped his phone. It's nearly forty-five minutes of a black screen, and as he rewinds it he turns a brilliant shade of red at the sounds of their _passionate_ love making. With a squeak, he crops the beginning off and locks the rest of it down in a secure folder on his phone. No one, bar _no one_ but him and Beka, will ever see it. 

Otabek is watching him in amusement but doesn't say anything as he plays with filters on the minute-long clip from the beginning. In no time it's ready and he sends it off to Mila with a number of emojis and a threat to not tag them anywhere if she posts it. And then, not caring for her answer, Yuri snuggles back into Otabek's embrace and kisses his boyfriend good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, two weeks. Sorry, my mental health kind of tanked for a bit, and a medical problem came right on its tail. I promise I am working on all of the prompts you guys have sent me, this one just happened to be the first one I could complete. I will preemptively not promise any solid type of schedule, since I'm not sure how things will play out, but I will definitely make sure I get through whatever you all give me.
> 
> On a lighter note, here's this chapter's super alluring [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHMBzy83dkU) by Maika Loubte, and yes it is another Carole & Tuesday pull. #NoRegrets. Also, gentle reminder that mature and explicit content is requestable in a number of different ways. I'll work on everything as much as I can. Much love!


End file.
